Ten Years Later in Fair Verona
by Lyla Domae
Summary: Surely not even Carmenta could have known that upon the first hours of my visit in Verona that I would uncover such surreptitiousness, of whose clues was overlooked for a decade...


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**_Disclaimer: All characters mentioned here that are also in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet are property of William Sakespeare, be he alive or dead. The main character and her grandmother, Giovanna d'Aragona, however, are mine as well as the plot itself. _**

"Ten Years Later in Fair Verona"

_**By: Lyla Domae**_

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Today is the day I return to Verona with Gran. Obviously, I am excited—excited being the understatement of this 14th century.

You see, most of my life has been lived stuck in Rome with Mother and Father. They had important jobs in Rome, being the duke and duchess. Therefore, I, their only daughter, was expected to learn all there is to learn if the rulers of Rome died by some poor or tragic misfortune and I was next in line for the throne. Being educated in Arithmacy, Literature, Music, Arts, Science, and heaven knows how many other subjects, while banished the thought of close friends for the sake of heartbreak, I rejoiced at the first chance I got to travel to Verona—the place I was born; my homeland.

Verona, you see, is also the place Mother and Grandmother grew up. Although I must tell you that even though my dear mother gave birth to me, I still consider my grandmother a closer motherly figure. She was the woman who practically raised me after I was brought into this life then taken to Rome when Father was needed back home. The story was that he and Mother we joined in holy matrimony in Fair Verona by Friar Lawrence, an old friend of Grandmother's. They wanted to stay in Verona and live life quietly under the rule of Prince Escalus but alas, my grandfather in Rome was dying from the plague and Father was next in line for the dukedom of Rome.

Therefore, today is the day that I shall see Verona for the first time in ages. I look forward to meeting Grandmother's old friends—Friar Lawrence and the Montagues. She told me of the century-old feud between the Montagues and Capulets; I wonder if they've resolved their conflict yet…

My grandmother's call brings my thoughts back to reality and I see that we are nearly at the Montague Mansion where we will be staying for the next month or so. As we approach the building, I see servants making way for the horses to enter the gates.

Taking a closer look at the building up ahead, I see that the light is reflecting upon the windows in a certain way so that it looks as if the manor was a house in the heavens, standing tall and majestic, and shining brightly in the afternoon gleam. Birds' twittering sets off a calm, serene feeling and assures me that my high hopes weren't all for not.

A main difference from the Verona streets we drove through and the mansion above is the absence of children running through the streets, around pure gold statues of two lovers, laughing with giddiness and chasing one another. Oh, I sure miss those days…

"We have arrived, Madam. Up ahead there—'tis the royal house of Montagues, home to Lord Montague and his lord's servants," announces the carriage driver.

"At long last," says Grandmother. "Come, granddaughter. I shall introduce thee to my dear friend, Lord Montague. Then after we've situated, I would like ye to meet Friar Lawrence—who, after the cause of precious deaths, hath still been tried a holy man." She ushers me in with her, inside the grand manor, as the servants lead us through.

"Lord Montague hath been expecting thee, fair daughters of Roma," a servingman says as he leads us towards the parlor.

"Roma, ay me!" says Gran. "Accuse me of being her daughter and dread come upon thee. Nay, sire, I was born and bred in these fair streets. Ay, sir, Verona is my home."

"Ay, forsooth," a voice whispers and I turn around, trying to locate the source. To my right, I see a middle-aged man dressed in robes of scarlet and gold directing high posture with an aristocratic aura about him. "Giovanna d'Aragona, 'tis been a long time indeed."

"Lord Montague, ay me. Thou hast changed not a bit since last I've seen ye," Gran says with a sparkle in her eye.

According to old stories she told me, Lord Montague was once one of Grandmother's suitors. The couple had been in love when they were younger but when time came for her to choose between her childhood friend and the man her parents wanted her to marry, she had no choice but to obey her parents lest she be disowned. Those were the consequences back then, and still are. Goodness me, I hope my parents won't force me into an arranged marriage. My coming of age has lately arrived and Mother's been talking of nothing else for the past month.

"This here is my granddaughter," Grandmother says, as she introduces us.

"I see. Mistress, thou art the fair image of thy grandmother as a young lady—not to mean thy beauty is creased with age, Gia," Montague assures her.

"Always the man of poetic words, my lord." She stiffled a smile.

Taking that as my cue, I see the chance to escape, leaving two old friends to converse amongst themselves, telling stories of times before my very existence.

As I wander around in search of the kitchen for a snack, I pass by a sound of a fair lady in fits of tears and a gentleman comforting her.

"Angel, I beg of thee, save thy precious tears for a more sorrowful occasion," says the man.

"Ay, me, Benvolio; how can thou utter such words of thy own cousin's death? A more sorrowful occasion indeed, this is. The death of an innocent man!" Bevolio Montague?

"Romeo, an innocent man? Ha, I think not. I urge thee to see reason, fair Rosaline. Romeo was as innocent as a child stung from honey stolen. I trust thou hast heard of poor Mercutio's death, 'tis not so? Doest thou know the cause of our dear friend's untimely demise? He was hurt under Romeo's arm, by the Prince of Cats, that fiery Tybalt—" I crawl over to the door and sneak a peek through the key hole.

"Indeed, those Capulets bite off more than they can chew…" the lady agrees gravely. When she turns around I see that she is dressed in the finest deep blue garments with hair like corn silk, a high forehead, scarlet lips, and a dainty form.

"My lady! How dares thou utter such words of thy own uncle's house? Since when—"

"Since my dear uncle ordered me to take upon my life the act of celibacy and make it my life's goal to become a nun of the church of France. As thou sees, I have done away with Lord Capulet's wishes. I have returned from Paris's St-Pierre-de-Montmartre, much dismay to thy own wishes as well, I'm sure."

"I merely advised thee to obey thy uncle's wishes for thy own happiness."

"Doest thou truthfully believe a life locked up, without thee, is a paradise?" I ponder Rosaline's last words, questioning the hidden love. Could it be?

"My cousin was in love with thee, fair lady. Yet return his affection, thou did not, is that not so?" She must have nodded for he continued. "I beseeched thee permission to challenge him but I was met with refusal—"

"Ay, me, Bevolio, thou art a fighter if there ever was one—striking up a fight with the man of the wrong eye or the child with a smirk at the wrong time. If thou were t'have challenged Romeo, t'would have been a cank'red hate—for with me, Romeo was deeply in love—"

"Nay, my lady; Romeo confessed to me that he was out of thy favor where he was in love. Nevertheless, everything soon changed when ye drove young Romeo to sneak into the Capulet party where he met Juliet," replies Bevolio.

"Ay, yes, fair Juliet with eyes like the stars and hair of silk; my lady, my lady." And so she goes off twirling around in imitation of Romeo. "Fair beauty and her darling father, double-crossers, promisers of lies—"

"Let them hear thee not—thou shan't speak ill of thine own family. For as thou hast seen in Verona square, the two enemy families have chosen to erect statues of their beloved offspring in pure gold," Benvolio warns.

"Ay, my lord, I have seen," Rosaline replies gravely.

"But thou knows not the truth. Without thee, my lady, their meeting may have been perchance unlikely. Fair Rosaline, thou thus acted as the impetus to bring the star-cross'd lovers to their deaths…"

"But was it not thou, Benvolio, that urged thy cousin to sneak into Lord Capulet's ball where, as thou said, 'Go thither, and compare Rosaline's face with some that I shall show, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow.' 'Tisn't so?" It's hard to see from where I was standing but it seems as though Benvolio is blushing.

Suddenly, I hear a pair of footsteps coming up behind me.

"And who is this maiden, sneaking about in the house of Montague?" says the voice of a man behind me.

"I am the granddaughter of Giovanna d'Aragona, dear friend of Lord Montague himself; daughter of the duke and duchess of Roma," I begin, introducing myself to the old man afore me, dressed in dark robes and a wise look about him.

"Thou art dear Giovanna's granddaughter? _Benedicte! _Thy grandmother is a great lady, of pure birth, heaven, and earth."

"Art thou the holy Friar Lawrence, good sir?" I ask.

"Forsooth, that may be," the friar admits.

"Grandmother has always spoken highly of thee, sire; 'tis a pleasure to finally meet thee," I say, bowing my head and shaking the friar's hand when he offers it.

"As she did of thee, my daughter. And may I say her words held truth. Thou art in truth thy mother's very image with a young look of early wisdom about thee." I blush at his words and stare at my feet as he leads the way to the courtyard.

"Who goes there?" cries a voice, and then stops. Looking closer I see a servant with a mop of black curls upon his head and a look of suspicion cross his face. As the friar and I come closer, the man bows. "Excuse my language, for I was mistaken. I had thought that thou wert a thief from the village," he says to me.

"It matters not," says the friar. "An innocent mistake, for the lady has not been in these parts since first given birth from her fair mother, the duchess of Roma."

Upon hearing the friar's words, the servant bows once more.

"Abram!" calls a man running towards us. As the figure approaches I see that he is another servant that closely resembles a man I once knew back home.

"What is it, Balthazar?" asks Abram as the man called Balthazar catches his breath.

"Lord and Lady Capulet have come for a visit. We are ordered to open the gates at once for the carriages to enter."

"The Capulets?" I ask as the servants run off. "They are coming here? So the age-old feud is ended?"

"Yes, of course; 'twas ended the day of Romeo and Juliet's deaths, the day both houses shook hands in mutual sorrow for their lost children," explains the friar.

"Ay, me; and here I thought they were still fighting like cats and dogs."

"Nay, my daughter. 'Tis now been ten years since the truce. Lord Montague and Lord Capulet have even erected statues of their children in pure gold in Verona square."

I gasp as realization hits me. "Meaning these lovers—these Romeo and Juliet, of the houses of Montague and Capulet—they are the statues I saw in the streets?"

"Indeed," says a soft voice behind me. Turning to look, I see a royal couple dressed in velvet navy and periwinkle garments, holding a steady bearing. Looking closer, I notice it was the woman who spoke. "My dear Juliet; 'twas not her time to go. But all has been said and done; we mustn't dwell on the past…" the woman finishes off, sniffling in a silk handkerchief. She must be Lady Capulet, I realize.

"My only daughter, stolen by Death. Death—who lay upon her like a frost, the sweetest flower in the field…" Lord Capulet says with a wistful look about him. Suddenly, he shakes his head as if to rid himself of bad memories passed and faces the friar. "God ye good den, my good man. And who art thou, fair lady?" he asks me.

I curtsy to the Capulets then hang back after the friar makes introductions, eager to find Gran and tell her what I had recently witnessed of Benvolio and Rosaline's secret meeting. As we all head back to the parlor, I ponder the events of the day. Surely not even Carmenta, goddess of childbirth and prophecy, could have known that upon the first hours of my visit in Verona that I would uncover such surreptitiousness, of whose clues was overlooked for a decade...

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**Like it, love it, hate it, thought it was the most boring, unopriginal piece of crap in the world?**

**Please tell me what you thought.**

**~Ly**


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